


Sorry About the Blood in Your Mouth

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Max to the rescue, Period-Typical Homophobia, Underage Drinking, and has been nursing a crush for years, billy gets a redemption arc, billy is now a rock star, billy tries to win steve over, he's not so great at it, smut at some point, steve is still a mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's been five years since High School and Steve is stuck in the job he promised he'd never pick up, trapped in Hawkins like he swore he never would, and the only thing keeping him sane are the gang of kids/now seniors poised to graduate in a couple of months. When Max drags them to Gritted Teeth, her brother's band, Steve doesn't expect a secret love confession on stage, or Billy shoving himself into and shaking up his too comfortable suburban mom life.





	1. The Only Truth is Music

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot. It escalated quickly.
> 
> This chapter will be the shortest! The next one will be mostly flashbacks, and the last more present day.

Steve had no fucking idea why he was here.

He didn't even _like_ the music Billy played--too hard rock with a glittered sheen of glam metal aesthetic. But the band ( _what kind of name was Gritted Teeth anyway?_ ) was playing the city over and Max had tickets. Seemed like after shit hit the fan and Billy moved out senior year, they'd worked on making up. She'd even mentioned offhandedly on the drive over that Billy would be helping her with college. 

Steve wondered if most of it was because Billy blamed himself for what happened with Max's mom.

"Steve!" Dustin snapped his fingers in front of his face as he lingered by the venue's back entrance. "C'mon. There's an open bar."

Steve snapped to attention, immediately stalking over to where Mike was already stabbing a straw into his rum and coke. "No. No way. Not on my watch."

"Don't be such a stiff." Mike ducked away, tucking himself behind El who stole a sip. Well. That's the last thing they needed. A tipsy telekinetic. 

"Billy said it's free for the gang." Max threw in, like that made a bunch of kids drinking in public better. "The bartender's got a heads up."

"You guys are eighteen!"

"C'mon. Like you didn't drink back in high school, King Steve." Dustin walked away from the bar with a-- "Sex on the Beach." He held the plastic cup up and wagged his eyebrows at Lucas, who punched his shoulder with a disgusted noise.

Steve turned to Will, hoping for some support. The kid's huge doe eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "You're the only one driving." 

Traitors. All of them. 

The floor was sticky, Steve's sneakers peeling off the linoleum with loud smacks as they approached the stage from the right, and the air was thick with weed and sweat, the air fogging slightly with an abundance of cigarette smoke. 

Max flashed an ID as they got to the front. "My brother's band is playing." That was a fairly new thing too--Max referring to Billy as her brother. Lucas often mentioned offhandedly that a lot had happened between the two, but Steve didn't think it was his place to pry. The broad shouldered man guarding the stage unhooked the rope and let them up to the front. That got them some jealous looks. Dustin blew kisses until Steve knocked him upside the head.

"Watch it, kid. This is the kinda crowd that'll eat you alive."

"Hey! Maybe some of the cute ones are groupies. I'll just drop that I know Billy, and then I dunno--get a date."

Max was holding Lucas' hand. "New low, Dustin."

"Didn't think _that_ was possible." Mike piped up.

"Good luck." El supplied helpfully.

"He'll need it." That was Lucas.

Man. These kids were savage.

"With friends like you guys, who needs--" The low, even strumming of a bass guitar cut in and his voice was drowned as the crowd roared, the sound rising up behind them. Steve resisted the urge to cover his ears.

"That all you got?"

It had been five years. Steve would still recognize that voice anywhere.

"C'mon, baby. Scream for me!" It was deeper. More savage. And Billy rolled his Rs like a large cat, the sound vibrating through the floor and into Steve's bones. Billy strutted on stage ( _no shirt, why wasn't he surprised_ ), the rest of his band right behind him. 

Fuck. He looked good.

The last time Steve had seen him had been right after Neil got thrown into prison. He'd gone with the gang to the courthouse for Max, moral support and all, and Billy had somehow picked the seat next to him, circles under his eyes, bottom lip split and blonde hair limp and dark around his face. It was a far cry from the pompous peacocking Steve was used to avoiding in school. He hadn't moved away. Had let Billy press his shoulder to his. After all that happened, even he couldn't nurse enough of a grudge against Billy Hargrove. Nobody deserved that shit happening to their family. 

This Billy on stage? With that longer hair curling past his shoulders, the sneer that crooked higher on the left, all teeth and sharp, bare chest prickling with sweat in the heavy lighting--it was like his high school nightmares and wet dreams in one, conflicting but nicely muscled body.

"This one's for you, Indianapolis!"

They launched into their first song and the crowd went fucking **wild**.

Even Steve had heard this one. The kids were screaming along (all around eighteen now, but they'd always be his kids). And soon Steve couldn't help himself, throwing an arm around Dustin and diving into the chorus with them. 

Gritted Teeth knew how to put on a show. Nine songs later, and Steve felt his hair sticking to the sides of his face with sweat, his throat hoarse, and even if he hadn't been drinking he felt high and more himself than he had in a long while. Not since he'd started working for his dad. Not since he got trapped in the loop he'd always been afraid of as a kid.

The stage dimmed, and Steve groaned along with the crowd, quickly cheering along for an encore. The lights pulsed bright, brighter with the noise until finally the band walked back on stage and Billy grabbed the mic.

"Dragged us back out, honey. You know we can't resist you." Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes as crowd lapped it up.

"This song's new. You'll be the first to hear it." And the drums started up, a slower beat, followed by the guitars.

Steve startled as Billy walked over and sat down on the edge of the stage, right in front of their group, gaze fixed on Steve's face.

He began to sing.

= _Oooh, baby. Papa never taught me how to love right._  
_That's why I bruised that pretty face of yours that night._  
_Hard kisses with knuckles instead of lips_  
_Give me another chance if you're listenin' to this._ =

... wait.

= _Was so lost back then, baby. Now I'm found._  
_Was hoping I'd get another chance. That you'd come round._  
_No more blood in your teeth. Just my mouth on yours._  
_Just the good kinda bruisin', baby. Those sweet kinda wars._ =

That song--

= _Was a kid back then, baby. I misunderstood.  
You'll be so good for me, honey. This time I'll treat you good._ =

Was it... about him?


	2. Hate Can't Drive Out Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's come a long way from Hawkins. Has abandoned a lot of history, most of it ugly, but now the best thing about it's right in front of him, within reach, and hell if he's gonna let Steve Harrington walk away without a fight.
> 
> And Billy's always been good at fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly flashbacks aside from the last few parts! I was going to make this 3 chapters, but who knows. It continues to escalate. Should I just make this a series?
> 
> Please pay attention to warnings! This chapter is a bit rough.

Billy knew something was off by the smell.

He'd made it a point to stay the fuck away from home on the weekends. Didn't want anything to do with the whole family act his dad liked to pull--BBQ on the back porch, Susan and all his friends hanging around him, feeding his already fat ego.

Back when he was a kid, his pops used to have him stick around looking all pretty and obedient. Would have him take swigs of beer to laugh at his face. Would make a show of sparring with Billy to boast how he was making his son a **man**. His dad used to be an amateur boxer and he knew just where to hit to make it hurt. That's why Billy always walked away a winner from every fucking fight he took on--he knew just where to punch, how to hold his ground, and swallowed down pain like he had an appetite for it.

He didn't. Get hit enough and you just got used to it.

But now? It wasn't as cute to push around a seventeen-year-old. So Billy had started to skip, Neil let him, and it was Max's turn to step up to the plate as entertainment. Neil never hit her, of course. Not yet, at least, because Billy made sure she knew how to behave. But Neil liked to teach her how to hit his friends. Like the way she was all fire. He'd always wanted a daughter like her, but he liked his wive obedient and quiet at his parties.

So Billy had gone out and gotten fucked up on cheap whiskey, his car smelling like sex from some blonde he'd picked up and abandoned at Tommy's house party. It was 1 am, and he was hoping the family was passed out so he could get some peace.

No such luck.

Something was burning on the stove when he walked in. And he strode quickly to the kitchen to turn the knob, the flame spluttering dead, before grabbing the pan and moving the black, crisped _something_ (couldn't tell what it was at this point) off the burner to a cool one.

That's when he heard the screaming.

"You embarrass me in front of my friends! Can't even fucking cook a--" The voices smothered by a booming crash too loud to be fists. Billy hovered by the hallway, hoping his dad wouldn't hear him and drag him into the fight.

Neil hardly ever hit Susan. But when he did? He was usually drunk, and it was usually serious.

That was the difference between them. He'd threaten, he'd scare, he'd bully--but he'd never hit a girl.

Keeping his footsteps light, he'd pushed his door open when something he heard stopped him in his tracks. A thunk, thunk, thunk, and at first Billy got grossed out, thinking they'd moved on to kiss and make up but he heard Susan moan, the sound muffled, painful, wet and Billy made a beeline for the bedroom door and threw it open.

Susan was on the floor. Wasn't moving, and Neil was kicking her in the back.

Billy didn't even think. Cut through the small space and smashed a fist in his father's chin.

"You're gonna kill her!"

Neil smelled like alcohol. Both of them did, and it stank up the room along with the smell of blood, sharp and metallic. He could taste it. Couldn't keep from spitting on the floor. "Calm down!"

Ah, _fuck._ He shouldn't have said that. That was one of his dad's triggers, and he'd fucking slipped.

He dodged the first punch, but not the second, and out of habit he let his dad continue to hit him, expecting him to stop after the second. But there was a third, a fourth, and Billy finally noticed Max at the doorway as he slammed back into the wall, dizzy and skidding to the floor as he lost his footing.

She screamed something. The ringing in his ears made it hard to ear, and the next fist even harder, but it sounded like a number. _Eleven, eleven, eleven_ \--why was she counting...

Everything went black.

\----

Hey didn't know how the cops got there so fast, but they saved Susan's life. His too, probably.

They give his dad 10 years. And Billy had to hand it to Hawkins--they moved quick. Took them about a week to get a court date. Guess things this ugly never usually happened in shitty, small towns and they wanted to clean it up. _Fast_. Susan was still in the hospital, right hand not working right and right leg broken in four places. She'd always walk with a limp.

Billy had been unconscious for two days. He had a cut on his lip that wasn't healing right, on the left side and it made him look even more of a smart ass, always pulling his mouth into a smirk.

He didn't even want to fucking come to the courthouse. But Max wanted to be there. She was always a pain in the ass, a fireball he couldn't put out but she'd seemed so small, seemed to flicker when she'd asked. They were both stuck living in his dad's house and had nobody else. So he'd put on a shirt, pants, didn't bother with his hair or face (lost cause) and brought her over.

He wasn't sure why he walked in behind her. Wasn't sure why he took a seat next to Harrington. It was like he was drunk, confused, like a fucking baby seeing his dad at the table with his lawyer. Neil kept trying to look at him, but Billy kept his head down.

The judge handed down 10 years for aggravated assault and the police started to haul his dad off. He felt Steve's shoulder press against his side, solid and warm and keeping him from slumping over.

"I'm sorry!"

Neil's voice rang through the courthouse.

"Billy! Max! I'm sorry!"

Billy couldn't help but look. His father... his strong, solid, asshole of a father was crying. Probably just because he got fucking caught. There was no way he was really--

"I'm so fucking sorry!"

Billy clenched his fists. Tried to keep thinking of his dad as a monster (was always easier that way). But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help remembering Neil helping him pick out the Camaro, teaching him how to drive, tossing him cassettes every Friday after work ( _better know those lyrics by tomorrow, son_ ). And Billy just fucking lost it. Stood so fast he knocked his chair back.

He fucking _hated_ his dad. 

But he couldn't help but love him too.

He didn't remember getting in his car, driving home, or falling back on the couch. All a blur until Max walked in (fuck, he forgot about her) and there's Harrington, car keys jangling from his back pocket with a paper bag full of--

"McDonald's. Share with your brother, Max."

"Maybe." But she sat on the floor by Billy anyway, fishing out a burger and slamming it on his chest.

"I'm just--" Steve started. Stopped. Man. Could this guy get any more fucking awkward. "Gonna go. If you need a ride to school, Max. Give me a call, yeah?"

"I can do it." Billy snapped his teeth.

Steve ignored him. "You know my number, kid."

Billy watched him leave, the screen door snapping shut behind him. 

Billy hated him. He fucking hated Steve Harrington, acting all high and mighty like Billy needed help.

He didn't.

He didn't.

He didn't need anyone's help.

\----

Susan came home. Max started going back to school. It was almost normal, except his dad was MIA and Susan couldn't walk properly. They weren't sure if she ever would again, and she sure as hell couldn't drive a car. Billy found himself stepping up because everyone else in town was avoiding them like the fucking plague. Like they were a stain on Hawkins. 

And, really--he should have expected it. Small towns like these were all about reputation. 

So he dropped off Susan at the cashier's job Joyce Byers helped her pick up in town. Dumped Max at school. Then he skipped to go play music with some other drop outs he'd met out in town.

He didn't expect anything to come out of it until James, their drummer, dragged them into some rock contest because they could all use the money.

Turned out managers were hot for pretty boys with pretty voices.

They got signed in a week, and Billy got his one way ticket out of Hawkins.

\----

It took him a year to make enough to buy another house in Hawkins for Max and Susan. They weren't quite family, but they were all he had and he owed them. The old house had too much Neil in it. Too much nicks on the floor, cracks on the wall from fists. It's like Neil bruised the house up too.

It was his dad who ruined them. But it was his dad who taught him to take care of them too. _Respect and responsibility, Billy._ Beaten into him since he was a kid, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were his responsibility now, even if Susan divorced Neil while he was in jail.

Max was only fifteen but he took her out to go buy a car. "Anything but a Camaro. You're friends with the Hopper's kid, right? Play that card if you get caught."

She lingered by his car. "You don't have to."

"Fuck, Max. I've got more money than I know what to do with. Just take my asshole apology money. We all know you earned it."

Max paused, head tipping to the right to mull it over. He saw the moment she gave in, eyes flashing with that spark. "True." She walked over to the most expensive looking sports scar. "This one has the most zeroes on it. That should cover 40% of the asshole bill."

"You little shit..."

\----

Billy didn't realize he'd been nursing a crush on Steve Harrington until he started writing music.

He'd fucked around plenty with mostly women. Sometimes men too. Nothing serious, just easy lays with them picking up their clothes scattered on the floor as soon as morning hit. If they didn't leave soon enough, he chased them out.

It started with the dreams right after he left Hawkins.

Just Steve and him on the court. No shirts, just wet skin slapping, sliding as Billy shoved him back to the floor, except this time Steve dragged him down and Billy's got him pinned. And suddenly they're slamming their mouths together, Steve's fingers pulling his hair hard enough it hurts, blunt nails down his back-- 

Billy woke up with the most painful boner he'd had since puberty hit.

They only got worse.

Steve in the showers, slick with soap as Billy ran his hands down his back, cupping his ass and sliding his thumb inside. Steve in his car, mouth on his cock as they drove down an empty main street. Steve in his room, Billy pushing him back on his desk and shoving his knees apart.

When they were back in Hawkins, Billy saw Steve as a target. A rival. Someone he had to break to make him better, tougher, more popular among the other kids but now that he's away from that place? Away from the pressures of having to be top dog, Billy realized that he'd been a fucking child--bullying the kid he liked to get them to hooked on him. To keep them from looking away. To give Billy a reason to press close and sneer and snap. When he'd beaten the shit out of Steve, it hadn't felt good. Usually the slam of his fists and the slump of a body brought him something close to high. His father had taught him to live for winning a fight. But with Steve--

He'd made a mistake.

Still.

He wasn't gonna fix it. Steve deserved better.

Billy didn't bother contacting him until Max showed up with her little dorky friends at his concert and there he was--Steve Fucking Harrington with sweat sticky hair and that perfect pretty boy face. With no date. Usually a guy would bring a date to these things, yeah?

Ah, fuck it. He had nothing to lose.

He'd written this song a year ago. The band had practiced it, but they'd never played it live. So when he gave them the cue, Mark, the drummer, balked a moment before slowly kicking up the beat. It wasn't gonna be popular with this flavor of crowd but Billy didn't fucking care. He took a seat on the edge of the stage and made sure Harrington saw him. Held his gaze before crooning into the mic.

And confessed to Steve Harrington in front of hundreds of people.

Now that Steve was within reach, Billy couldn't bring himself to let the guy go.

\----

They wrapped up backstage and Billy motioned a couple of assistants over. "Get my sister and her friends up here. They're up front. Got it?"

He stank of sweat, his leather pants were glued to his thighs, and he was about to see Steve Harrington for the first time since he ditched Hawkins.

Hell, he couldn't look better if he tried.


End file.
